:WYRM:

Wyrm wonders: What do you do when you’re nothing? How do you make sense of anything really once the slate’s been wiped clean? It makes him all the more interested to peel back the layers of Pyre and watch that brain tick away. Had something important been left behind in the dust of all that empty space? Wyrm wonders.

The more he begins to learn about this odd character, the more involved he feels himself becoming. The questions begin to pile in heaps around them. Why couldn’t she remember? Who wanted her to forget? What was she doing here now? If she was someone’s enemy, she’d be dead. But no, whoever or whatever had done this wanted her to have snippets, something like glittering shards of her past life to hold onto in this new one. Perhaps enough shards that they could be pieced back together, someday. “Pyre suits you with a mouth like that.” Wyrm replies, the once sharp grin fading into a lazy smile. “I was able to change my form, down to the atomic bonding level. There really wasn’t much I couldn’t imitate in shape, color, or size.” He reveals, deciding to let her think over just how little that left out.

His distinctive eyes turn to the canopy overhead for a moment, feeling that tender ache in his breast every time he tried to shift and found it useless. He exhales, and then returns to looking at the neon girl. “My guess is that if you remember hunting animals, you had that ability too. Whether it was greater or lesser, who could say?" He muses, leaning back to rest. "It certainly doesn’t matter now.”